Flogging, any one?


My friend Esther’s girlfriend–check that, “girlfriend,” Lisa works at this place called the Pleasure chest on Santa monica and Genessee. They were going to attend a class on Flogging that the shop was holding, so we headed there after a dinner of chicken and Waffles at Roscoe’s on Sunset and Gower. (FUCKING DELICIOUS. I love how every time I’ve eaten there I leave with a rather euphoric feeling that i just don’t experience any where else). [for those of you interested Wikipedia says that flogging in the erotic sense is: “In the sexual sub-culture of BDSM, “flagellation” involves beating the submissive partner and is a form of impact play. Such a flogging is not always delivered with forceful blows; sometimes it is done with very soft blows, repeated a great many times so as to make the skin sensitive. Thus, the softest impact will eventually feel very intense.”] We had some time to kill so we meandered through the shop and I got to meet some of Lisa’s coworkers- including a black woman who’s name is Candy, but spells her full name as Candyce. I looked at her and laughed so hard, and then explained that her name is essentially my email address. Crazy. She grew up in compton when it was still farm land—yeah, she’s almost 40. Funniest thing i’ve heard in ages was her describing how on a recent trip to Europe the european men couldn’t get enough of her because she’s black and american. She straight says, “Ohhhh so this is what it feels like to be a white girl…” becuase they were all over her. Hi-fuckin-larious.

Anyway, so Lisa is demonstrating how softly one can flog another when this kinda creepy guy comes up. White guy, with circular framed glasses—not kinda circular but fucking glasses in the shapes of circles, like the trick glasses mags has in her back seat– and a gym bag comes up to us. He starts talking about how he’s excited about the class, and how he was really hoping to get some private time with the instruction so that he can clean up his florentine. Me and esther look at each other, and I immediately think fish, but apparently it involves two cat-o-nine tails moving in a very double dutch type of way. From his gym bag you can see the silver handles of his cat-o-nine tails. then the weirdo tries to hit on me. At that point me and Esther make a run for the door, and Esther tells lisa, “oh, there is no way I’m doing this…” it would have been all good, but that dude was seriously creepy (re: serial killer). We went to cha cha cha for drinks for a couple of hours, and when we got back we looked into the demonstration room where the class was held, and there was this older guy who was balding in the front and the back just “florentining” away—waving those fuckers over his head and shit. Um…I’m not one to judge, but I just don’t think so. actually, the whole thing makes me go EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Even seeing the life like penises make me a little creeped out. But not nearly as creeped out as a)the leather masks and harness set I saw for “horse play” (WTF) or b) the large dildo called “Mr. Ed” that is a replica of horse genitalia or c) the fucking “Fleshlight” that is a mastabatory tool that creates a suction when a guy puts his penis into it. I JUST CAN’T HANDLE IT ALL. It seriously is the largest sex shop i’ve ever been into (two levels) and with stuff i’ve never seen before (re: the aforementioned items). They had awesome vibrators, some of the likes i’ve never seen before, but really—it was just a little much. Horseplay? Come on now. i shared with one of the women that I was from Washington where they had the big horse sex drama last year, and how with the seattle times the most searched for articles of 2005 involved the words: beastiality, horse sex, horse sex in enumclaw, and other combinations of those words. She looked kinda shocked, like she hadn’t heard of the story. I like how in that moment I was the wierd one for knowing of such a case. Crazy huh.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s